When Alexander came to see me I burst into tears and threw myself into his arms.
‘I can’t live like this,’ I sobbed. ‘I’m so unhappy. Take me away from here, please.’
‘Ashley!’ He was shocked. ‘You’re so thin!’
‘I can’t eat. There’s poison everywhere. I’m afraid for Chiron, and I’m afraid for you, and for Plexis.’
‘What will happen to him? Do you know now?’
‘I think so. Bagoas means to poison him.’
Alexander stiffened. ‘Bagoas? That can’t be!’
‘It is true.’ I dried my tears. ‘I heard it from a reliable source.’
Alexander went very pale. The colour left his cheeks and he sat down suddenly. ‘Bagoas? Poison? How?’ His voice was strained.
‘I have no idea,’ I told him. ‘But maybe we can kill Bagoas.’
‘But, Ashley, if Hephaestion does not die you will be destroyed by your time gods.’
‘They’re not gods,’ I said, suddenly angry.
‘We can do nothing.’
‘We can pretend he really did die,’ I told him.
‘Pretend? How?’
‘Listen.’ I told him the plan I’d formulated. There was a deep silence after I finished speaking that seemed to shake the walls. Or maybe it was just my pounding heart.
‘Are you sure that will work?’ he asked.
‘It has to.’
‘By the gods,’ he said suddenly. Sweat trickled down his forehead. He wore a blank, stunned look. ‘In three weeks, you say?’
‘If I remember my ancient history right.’
He leaned over and put his head between his knees. ‘Your ancient history is my future. I feel ill.’
‘I’ve felt like that for a year now,’ I told him. ‘If you don’t help me, I’ll go mad. And please believe me, I could never spend my life as a Persian princess. I feel like I’m in prison. I miss being in the tent with you and seeing the sun rising in a different place nearly every morning. I’m like a bird that has been born in the wild and suddenly finds itself with its wings clipped in a cage.’
‘A golden cage, but a cage just the same.’
‘Even you will always be nothing but a tiger in chains if you stay. Didn’t Opis teach you anything?’
‘You heard about my speech? What did you think? Was it good? I made it up spontaneously. I was so mad I just shouted.’ He sounded pleased.
‘It was impressive.’
‘Thank you.’ He leaned over and kissed me. ‘Oh, Ashley. Do you remember when I told you I missed floating in the river with you, swimming and hunting crocodile together?’
‘Of course. I miss that too, except the part about the crocodiles.’
‘I still miss that. We’ll be free once more. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I swear to you, we’ll be free once more.’
‘Thank you, Alex.’
‘Now I just have to kill Bagoas, tell Plexis to pretend to die, and nearly die myself before being saved by you. Compared to that, conquering Persia was like falling off a wild ass.’
‘Ah. Another Macedonian saying? I thought you said you liked a challenge?’ I teased.
‘I said that? I’ll have to start watching what I say in front of you, you have a habit of throwing things back at me.’
I was smiling. ‘Please don’t let me down,’ I said.
‘I won’t. I promise.’
I drew a long, shaky breath. He had said it. He had finally said it. Now everything was in the hands of the gods. Hopefully, the gods would give me a helping hand.
Plexis played polo as he rode; naturally. As if it were no more difficult than breathing. His horses seemed as much a part of him as his legs or arms. He was a centaur. That’s what most people were saying as they watched the new satrap of Ecbatana riding his horse back to the pony lines to change mounts.
His team was winning; they’d won all the matches so far. Plexis was in his element. Far from the palace and its court, he became what he was meant to be. Alexander watched from his throne and there was the saddest look in his eyes, as if he had realized just to what prison he had condemned his friend. Not that he’d ever complained. Plexis bent to his task as seriously as he could. His face lost its puckish good humour and took on a determined look. He stopped going to the stables every free minute and shut himself in his office with the scribes and accountants. Yet his fervour did him more harm than good.
In going over the accounts he discovered a grave error that seemed to indicate that some of the men Alexander had left to rule the cities of Persia and Greece had been embezzling. There was an investigation, and in a very short time Alexander had arrested seven men for misappropriation. He had them executed, which pleased some, but not all, of his generals. One of the men, Cleander, had been Coenus’s own brother. Now some whispered that Coenus had been killed by Alexander for speaking up when we’d reached the Beas river, telling Alexander that the army wanted to go no further. That was ridiculous, of course but it was true that Alexander had ordered the investigation of the men convicted of embezzling. He hadn’t taken part in their trials but he had approved the sentence. The thunder on the horizon was growing louder.
Alexander seemed deaf to its warnings. True to character, not a subtle bone in his magnificent body, his eyes flashing, he stood firmly on the throne of Persia. In his speeches, he told everyone that he wanted his kingdom to be a jewel on the face of the earth. He expected everyone to obey his satraps, because he chose them for their loyalty and their talent. He said he expected to go on another long voyage, this time to the deepest part of Africa, where he would bring back riches undreamed of for the kingdom. It was your usual kingly speech but there was also the usual grumbling. Some people are never happy.
‘I tried to tell you,’ I told Alexander, holding his head on my lap and stroking his forehead. ‘In my time all the countries have splintered. There is a phenomenon where one man sweeps in and creates a huge kingdom. Then the man disappears and the natural opposing forces break everything apart. It takes an exceptional man to bring so many different people together. When you disappear there will be a vacuum. It is more human, I think, to be individuals.
‘We are too individual,’ I added, thoughtfully. ‘We have split into smaller and smaller factions. In my time, there are more than twenty-five countries where you have made but one. Amazing, isn’t it? And even those countries threaten to split off and form smaller ones. In a few centuries maybe a conqueror will come and reunite them again. So far the only one to do it was you. My handsome warrior.’ I kissed him on the mouth and then popped a grape into it.
He chewed lazily. The sun was at its hottest. The polo games would resume in the evening. Plexis had not been offered anything to drink by anyone suspicious. Bagoas remained hidden. Alexander had tried to see him, but he was not in his quarters.
‘Another one?’ He opened his mouth like a baby bird.
‘You’re too spoiled,’ I sighed.
‘Mmm, that was a good grape.’ He swallowed and opened his mouth. ‘Again.’
‘You’re worse than Chiron.’
‘Have you weaned him yet?’
‘He’s three years old! He’s been weaned for nearly a year now.’
He leered at my breasts. ‘Too bad, I would have liked some …’
There was a knock at the door and a voice called to Alexander. It was the guard. He said something about the game starting again.
‘So soon?’ I asked. ‘It’s still hot out.’
‘Plexis wants to finish early; he has to oversee the festivities this evening. He’s taking this satrap business seriously.’ Alexander got to his feet in a fluid movement and pulled me up beside him. ‘I’ll see you after the game,’ he whispered.
‘See you later, alligator,’ I said.
‘In a smile, crocodile.’ Well, he was learning.
I had no intention of waiting like a good little wife in the gynaeceum. I put on my men’s clothes and wig. Axiom and Brazza kept Chiron, a
s usual, but they were not happy about my going to the games alone.
‘It’s too dangerous, there are too many rough men. And there are soldiers who could recognize you.’
‘No they won’t, I’ll stay hidden. Don’t be such a worry-wart.’
Axiom had no idea what that could be, but his narrow face darkened. ‘Please, my lady, at least take Millis with you.’
‘I can’t! Everyone knows he’s my slave. They’ll recognize me for sure.’
‘Not if he wears a disguise.’
Millis looked swarthy and almost dangerous with the black wig Axiom gave him. I put some charcoal on his cheeks and darkened his eyebrows. Then we both crept out the window. He was so thrilled I trusted him at last that he made me feel beastly for not telling him before. He couldn’t stop grinning and patting me on the shoulder.
As we made our way down the narrow streets towards the wide avenues, I told him what was happening. His expression became serious. He explained with gestures that he would defend me with his life, and I stood on tiptoes and kissed him. It must have looked funny; a thin youth carrying a short staff kissing a menacing thug. Millis grinned. I’d blackened one of his teeth as well. His mother wouldn’t have recognized him.
At the polo game, we squeezed into the crowd. Everyone in Ecbatana seemed to be there; men, children, and women, the rich and the poor. Everyone was shouting or cheering. Most of them were eating or drinking. There were kebab vendors, men selling dried fruit and pistachios, stands with slices of watermelon and piles of dates, vats of mead and beer, and people hawking commemorative plates and cups with Alexander’s face painted on them. I was caught up in the din and hurly burly and almost forgot why we were there, but then I caught sight of the polo field and my good mood vanished.
We found a space in the stands and settled down to watch the match. I saw Alexander on the far side of the field. Of course, we couldn’t get anywhere near him. He was protected by his soldiers. There was a large empty space around him. We were directly opposite the royal throne.
I’ll never know what made him look up and see me. He always knew when I was looking at him. He told me that he could actually feel my eyes upon him, like a cool touch. Whatever it was, I saw him looking in my direction and I waved. It wasn’t an odd gesture to make – everyone was waving. I saw him blench though. His fingers whitened on the arms of his throne and he leaned forward. Nobody noticed except me. He didn’t wave back. That would have condemned me to death. He turned his head. The game was getting under way. A hush fell over the crowd, and I tightened my grip on my staff.
There are poisons, and there are poisons. Some worked on men, and some on horses.
As we watched, the horse Plexis was riding suddenly died. He didn’t slow or stagger, he collapsed while at full gallop. Plexis was thrown and the horse rolled over him. After the crash, there was a moment when everyone held their breath. Then Alexander vaulted over the barrier and rushed out to the field while a general flood of humanity surged forward to get a better look.
I fought through the crowd, making my way to the field. I was demented, nothing could stop me from clawing a path to Plexis. Millis helped. He was big and brawny and shoved people right and left.
Plexis was lying in an awkward sprawl, his neck twisted sideways, blood seeping from his mouth and nose. I threw myself down at his side. He was still breathing, but the sound he made as he struggled for air was awful. I called his name and his eyelids fluttered, but there was no other sign he was conscious. Alexander was standing over him, keeping the crowd at bay. His soldiers had been slower to react and they were just now forcing the people back. I raised my eyes and met Alexander’s gaze.
‘Make sure nobody moves him until Usse gets here, then bring him to my quarters,’ I said clearly. I waited until he whispered, ‘All right’. Then I wriggled out of the crowd and found Millis. ‘Quick, take me to the temple of Ea,’ I said. I held something in my hand that looked like a staff but wasn’t. Millis knew what it was, but he did as I asked.
Bagoas was in the temple. He had been there for days, making sure he had an alibi. Perhaps he felt safe there. He knew that Alexander would kill him if he suspected he had a hand in Hephaestion’s death. He hadn’t counted on me.
He was a medium-sized, slender man. His hair was dyed brassy blond, and his eyes were velvety black with long lashes. The whites of his eyes were very pure, and his eyebrows were delicately arched. His brow was high and clear. His skin was incredible. It was like ivory satin. He had a faint pink flush on his cheeks. He was beautiful. A deadly cherub.
He watched me enter the temple. His eyes were wide and brilliant. His full and sensuous mouth curved in a smile. He rose from where he had been kneeling and walked towards me. He was so light on his feet he looked as if he were dancing. He wore nothing but a golden chain around his neck, and a short pleated linen skirt.
I had lost my wig, and my cropped hair must have shone like silver in the dark temple. My face felt strangely stiff. My skin was cold. I couldn’t feel my hands or feet. Shock was flowing like ice through my veins.
Bagoas lowered his chin, studying me. His mouth opened, and the tip of his pink tongue came out and touched his upper lip. I felt my nipples harden as my body responded to his sexuality. His whole presence was a beautiful invitation to lust.
‘Come, child,’ he said in a seductive lilting voice. ‘What is your name?’
‘Nemesis,’ I said clearly. Then I lifted the short spear that Barsine had given me so very long ago in Persepolis, and, with both hands, I drove it through his chest.
He fell backwards, gasping and clawing at the shaft of my spear, but I held on. Then Millis grabbed the end of it, adding his weight, and I felt the tip of the spear hit the stone floor. Swallowing my sudden nausea, I bent over and whispered into Bagoas’s ear. ‘What did you do to Hephaestion?’
‘Poison,’ he said. ‘Is he dead?’ His voice was fading.
‘No, but you are,’ I said. Then I wrenched the spear free and left. The priests in the temple made no move to stop me.
Chapter Nine
Bagoas died in the temple. There was an inquiry. The priests said a blond youth called Nemesis and a tall man with missing teeth had entered the temple and struck Bagoas down. They also mentioned poison. Eumenes, Alexander’s secretary, in writing the news to Athens, made it sound as if Bagoas had died of poison.
Usse transported Plexis to my quarters, as I had asked, and Alexander went insane with grief. I caught a glimpse of the dark folly that would consume him when his friend died.
According to Usse, the fall had broken one of Plexis’s arms, his thorax had been compressed, he’d displaced and cracked a vertebra in his neck, and his head, unprotected, had hit the ground. He was in a coma. He wavered between waking and sleep. No one was allowed into my quarters to see him, except Usse and Alexander. Everyone accepted this arrangement. I was a goddess. Naturally Alexander would trust his best friend’s life with me.
One week after the fall, Usse formally announced Hephaestion’s death. His new wife, Drypetis, already fragile, was so shocked she lost her baby. She hadn’t come to see her husband once. I think part of the shock came from knowing he was with me, in my quarters, and that I had forbade anyone to see him. Except Drypetis. I’d sent a message to her right away, telling her to come immediately. I was hoping she’d refuse. It turned out I’d judged her harshly, but well. She sent a message back saying she’d rather die than set foot in my rooms. She then demanded to have him sent to her rooms. I refused. Three days after his death was announced, she lost her child. I felt the loss like a blow. I hadn’t wanted that to happen. I was afraid to say anything to Plexis, and he didn’t know for a very long time. The secret was a heavy burden of guilt for me.
Alexander went into a frenzy of mourning. He ordered all the cavalry horses’ manes and tails cut short. He chopped off his own hair and locked himself in my quarters for two days. No one could see him. Stories of his wild grief circulated. People shook thei
r heads and clucked sympathetically. When I was sure that everyone was starting to compare his grief with that of Achilles for his friend Patroclus, I was ready to carry out my plan.
Alexander ordered a huge funeral cortège that would carry Hephaestion to Babylon, where a monument was to be erected in his honour. He wrote a letter to the temple of Amon in Egypt asking if he should honour his friend as a god, or as a hero.
‘A god or a hero?’ Alexander frowned at the letter he was writing and looked back at me. ‘I did that?’
‘In the history books it says you went batshit crazy,’ I said. I was sitting next to Plexis. He was still critical but he’d slowly started to recover. Two things had saved him. The rain that had fallen the night before, soaking the polo ground and making it soft, and the fact that I had told Alexander not to move him until Usse got there. He had a badly cracked vertebra in his neck. He would have to remain absolutely still for at least six months. The prospect was making him cranky, to say the least. He had also drunk out of his own wine flask just before the game, but the poison inside it didn’t kill him. Usse had given him a massive dose of charcoal, but his stomach pained him for a long time afterwards.
‘What does “went batshit” mean?’ asked Alexander, applying himself to his letter. Near the doorway, Millis and Axiom were wailing and carrying on, making the people gathered outside believe we were all mad with sorrow. Letters of condolence arrived from all over the kingdom. Millis took them and put them in a large chest. Eumenes would take care of them. Meanwhile, we had to hide Plexis. What better place to hide him than in my own quarters? To Axiom, Brazza, and Millis we had explained that we were telling everyone that Plexis was dead because he had many enemies and we wanted to save his life.
Axiom and Brazza had accepted everything we’d said with no questions. I was worried about trusting Millis, but so far he had proved himself very useful. Usse was harder to convince, but for now he held his tongue.
‘Batshit means what it sounds like, but batshit crazy means you went beyond normal crazy.’ I smoothed a lock of hair from Plexis’s brow. ‘How are you feeling today?’ I asked him softly.
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